Donald A. Luidens As a teenager growing up in Beirut, Lebanon, I was privy to an adage among local expatriates: Western scholars come to the

Those are the gentle, mournful sounds of a denomination imploding. Sad to say, they are not the first, nor will they be the last. But

Every twenty years, Bethlehem has beckoned me. In 1964, seventeen years after the outbreak of what Palestinian Arabs call “The Disaster” (an-Nakbah) and Israelis call

“Call Lewis Scudder,” the late-April memo read. He “says he has a really neat idea” to share with you. My dear friend lives in Limassol,